


Persephone

by RocksCanFly



Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Kaldur Never Agreed To This, And Sometimes Love Doesn't Conquer Anything, Artemis is Upset But Will Be A Good Aunt, Deviates From Canon, Gen, Helmet of Fate, Lian Harper Will Be Alright, M/M, Persephone Cycle, Roy Harper Keeps His Promises, Self-Sacrifice, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocksCanFly/pseuds/RocksCanFly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years ago Kaldur'ahm of Shayeris put on the Helmet of Fate and never took it off again. A deal was struck with Fate for his release, and now the day's arrived when Roy Harper is supposed to get the love of his life back, but in order for that to happen he has to hang himself on the same cross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for nothingcelestial and smallpotatoescolored over on tumblr, both of whom are wholly responsible for any emotional trauma you may experience in the course of this fic.

Its the morning before you say goodbye to autonomy for six long years and you can’t get your daughter to hold still long enough for you to change her onesie.

“Li, babe, please,” you say desperately, trying to catch one of your one-year old’s flailing legs. “Auntie A’s going to be here in ten minutes and I already get enough shit from her as it is. Please st _–ooph_ ,” a little foot catches you under your chin, knocking your head back with surprising force. You manage to wrangle the wayward limb, only to have her start bouncing up an down on the changing table, grinning at you all the while with a smile disturbingly like her mother’s. “Li, _please_.”

Eventually you do manage to get her changed. Your skills learned tying up bad guys and wrangling abominations of science have transferred quite satisfactorily to your new life as a father. Bitterness, orange and hot, wells up in your throat as you think of how soon that life, too, is coming to an end.

The doorbell rings before you have too much time to dwell on the matter, and you go to get it, cradling your daughter in one arm as she coos and dribbles all over her clean clothes.

The moment you open the door she is plucked out of your arms by one of her (many) adoring uncles. “How’s my favorite little monster,” West coos at her, holding her under her arms and swinging her around gently. Your daughter giggles and shrieks, delighted as her little legs swing in the air.

“Hello to you too, West,” you say flatly, raising a brow at their shenanigans. The display loosens a knot in your chest that’s been growing since Jade put her in your arms a year ago.

A firm hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing it tight. Artemis smirks wryly up at you. “And I thought _I_ was his favorite little monster,” she says drily. “Hey there, Harper.”

“Hey yourself,” you reply, sweeping her into a hug. Once you release her you step aside, letting them through the doorway and into your apartment. “I’m almost all packed. If you want to come help me pick a few more of Li’s toys while your fiancé entertains my daughter, I wouldn’t mind the help.”

“Sure,” she says, smirk falling. She follows you into Li’s room, Wally and Li’s giggles fading as she closes the door behind you. “So,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as she surveys the boxes you’ve already filled and labeled. “Today’s really the day.”

“Yeah,” you reply tonelessly. Silence stretches between you as you both look at the boxes. Your daughter’s room is more orderly than it’s been in months, everything packed away neatly in brown cardboard and labeled either “go” or “stay”. The majority of the boxes will be going with Artemis and Wally when it’s time to leave. Li’s extra cradle and some other furniture have already been set up in their spare room. The rest will stay here, where the new owner will have to decide whether he wants to keep them or store them. Most of the rest of the apartment is intact, with only things like some mementos being packed away. Your bedroom is full of boxes, too, the dresser and closet empties out to make room for the other man’s clothes.

You go and kneel by the toybox, the only thing that hasn’t been packed yet, and begin to select which toys will be following Li to her new home. Artemis kneels beside you, and you work in silence for a stretch.

“Roy,” she finally says, looking down at the plush dinosaur and cloth doll she’s pretending to decide between. Eventually she puts the dino in the 'go' box and throws the doll back into the chest. “Are you sure about this?”

You sigh, sitting back from the toy chest and leaning onto your hands. The soft green play rug Dinah bought for Li’s room is soothing and familiar beneath your palms. You bury your fingers into it, pulling at the weave as you think.

Are you sure? No, not really, seeing as you’ve asked yourself the same question about a hundred times this morning alone, and an uncountable number of times since Jade first put Lian into your care a year ago.

Is it what’s best for your daughter? Maybe. You can’t help but wonder, hope, that she’ll do better with Wally and Artemis than she would have done with you. It makes sense that a kid would be better off being raised by two parents instead of a harried, not-really-retired vigilante father and her absent mother. It’s a bitter sort of comfort that your daughter might, in fact, be better off without you, but it does make the pill easier to swallow to know that she’ll be happy.

Is this what you want? No, not really. What you want is one of the most important people in your life back, sans having to give up your own freedom in return. What you want is six years of time back, where he was by your side instead of staring blankly across from you at the League meeting table, green eyes emotionless behind a gold helmet.

But this is reality, and in reality you don’t always get what you want.

“It’s what I promised him,” you reply, finally. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

“No one does,” she snaps angrily. You know it’s not at you. She’s just angry in general, about this whole thing. Most everyone is. “Roy, this isn’t fair. Are you–,” she pauses, takes a steadying breath. Her eyes flick up to meet your own. “Are you sure you really even have to? Can’t you just, you know,” she shrugs meaningfully, “Not put the helmet back on?”

“If it didn’t guarantee that the next time we need Dr. Fate the poor fucker who puts it on is doomed to be trapped forever? Sure,” you reply wryly. “Artemis, we’re lucky he’s willing to trade out every six years at all. At least this way nobody misses their entire life.”

“Only half of it,” she says darkly.

“Yeah,” you admit. You can’t help the way your voice hitches- there’s a lump working its ways up your throat that you can’t seem to swallow past. You hang your head, leaning forward to bury it in your hands. You can hear Li’s babbling through the door, accompanied by occasional shrieks that signal that Wally’s tickling her. You’re going to miss that sound. You’re going to miss so _much_ of your daughter’s life, but you can’t bring yourself to break your promise. “Only half.”

Strong arms wrap around your from the front and blond hair drapes down to tickle your nose. “I’m going to miss having you around to torture, Red,” Artemis admits, mumbling into your hair.

“Just take a lot of pictures for me, okay?” You reply, trying to keep your voice light.

“Millions of ‘em.”

“And… take care of Kaldur, too. He’s going to need it.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, and you can feel a small smile being pressed against your scalp. “I guess it’s finally our turn to return the favor, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I guess it is.”

* * *

 You meet Nabu on the Watchtower for several reasons.

One is that it’s a good, central location free from any media attention. You’d rather not have flashing cameras and nosey reporters there when Kaldur first comes out of the helmet. It’s also where all of your mutual friends can gather, including his comrades from Atlantis. You’re trying to keep it from getting too dramatic, but apparently you have a lot of people who want to say good-bye. And Kaldur has a lot of the same people who are waiting to welcome him back.

Finally, just in case being in the helmet has had any adverse effects on his physical or mental health, there’s facilities up here that are equipped to handle it.

Punching in the zeta coordinates in the tube near Artemis and Wally’s house after having left a happily cooing Lian in their arms is one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

The next hardest thing is forcing yourself not to cry when Dinah Lance and Oliver Queen run to embrace you the moment you exit the zeta into the Watchtower.

“Hey, kid,” Ollie mutters, using his bare inch left of height advantage to cradle you to his chest as Dinah holds you both. “You ready?”

“Are you?” you snark back, because some habits don’t change.

“Never,” he replies in all seriousness, and it almost breaks you.

“But we’re proud of you,” Dinah assures. “And we’ll watch over Lian.”

“You mean spoil her,” you mutter, throwing up your own arms to hug the two of them back.

“Like the princess she is,” Ollie agrees, pressing a fatherly kiss into your hairline. After a while you disengage and collect yourselves, walking over to the waiting assembly of heroes.

Aquaman greets you first, saluting you in the formal Atlantean style as you approach.

“Roy Harper,” he intones. “Words cannot describe how grateful I am for what you have volunteered to do, nor the depths of my regret that it is necessary.”

“It’s not like Kings of Atlantis have any jurisdiction over Lords of Order, right?” you joke weakly, returning the salute. Orin merely looks at you solemnly, understanding in his eyes.

Dick--Nightwing, now--approaches you next. “Hey,” he says, offering you a one-armed hug.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, squeezing him tight. He’s grown up a lot in the last six years, and even if you’re still not sure that he’s actually happy leading the team, you think he’s done an alright job. “You ready to hand the reins of the Team back over?”

He scoffs. It’s a little inside joke that the two of you have shared since that fateful night when Kaldur put the helmet on. You’d always known the man was uncomfortable leading the team and have, in a dark attempt at lightening the mood, joked that at least Kaldur didn’t have to deal with leading the unruly, quarrelsome gang that the Team had been at its inception. When Dick took over two years ago he’d suggested that maybe Kaldur ended up getting the better end of the deal.

It tickled both of you to think of the horrified look on his face if Dick were to tell him that he was re-instated as team leader the moment he was freed.

“Jokes aside,” you say as you release him, “Where is tall, shiny, and anal retentive?”

“I am here,” a severe voice says above and behind you. You turn to see Dr. Fate floating down, his cape billowing behind him dramatically as he descends to the floor beside you. You really hope you don’t look like that much of an asshole when he takes your body for a drive. “I see you have come to make good on our agreement, Roy Harper,” he continues sternly. You wince. You’re still not used to that voice coming from Kaldur's body, even after all these years.

“Sure have,” you reply, turning to him and squaring your shoulders. It irks you, in some vague, petty corner of your being, that you have to look slightly up to him. It’s just like Kaldur to grow up taller and not even be able to enjoy lording it over you.

“I had wondered if you would renege, seeing as you now have attachments to keep you here," Fate says. There’s something in his voice that borders on respect, and you don’t quite know what to make of that. “I see that unlike some mortals you can be trusted to keep your word.”

“Look,” you say, crossing your arms. “Are you ready to give Kaldur back or not?”

Fate hums, considering. “I will admit that I have had second thoughts about our deal. Kaldur’ahm’s body is much more suited to my abilities than your own, and his control over water constructs has had its own uses,” he says thoughtfully. You tense, and you can sense Dick beginning to protest behind you. “But,” he continues, “I am a Lord of Order, and I always keep my word. I am ready to make the exchange when you are, Roy Harper.”

“Right,” you say, and choke. The knot that’s been building in your belly all of this month has tightened to the point where you think you’re going to projectile vomit all over his shiny gold helmet and pretentious blue costume, which you wouldn’t mind except that soon it’s going to be _your_ shiny gold helmet and pretentious blue costume.

You’re about to give up everything for six whole years.

And, equally as important, you are about to see your best friend's--your first _love_ ’s--face again for the first time in just as long.

“I get five minutes, right?” You ask shakily, forcing your hands down into clenched fist by your sides as you square yourself off to face Fate. “That was the deal?”

“Five minutes is as much time as I am willing to allow,” Fate agrees. “I will not be trapped again.”

“Okay then,” you reply, bracing yourself. “Let’s do this.”

The golden helmet dips in acknowledgment, and Fate reaches up with gloved hands to remove the helmet. There’s a flash of light as it lifts away and you’re left, blinking, trying to clear your vision in the aftermath.

“ _Roy_ ,” you hear, in a voice that you haven’t heard in so _long_ , and you didn’t realize how much you’d missed it until it’s piercing straight through you, stabbing through your heart and punching out your breath as you blink furiously.

“Roy, what have you _done_?”

You’re about to reply, struggling for the words to answer when your vision clears and you _see_ him.

Your memories, the pictures, the videos on your and the Team’s phones--none of it did him justice.

His mouth is as full and soft looking as your remember, and time has only sharpened his already elegant features. Fate allowed his hair to grow out some, so it poofs out from his head slightly, the gold curls gleaming in the light of the Watchtower.

And, _oh._ His _eyes_.

You’d forgotten just how strikingly beautiful they were--almond shaped and a shade of green you’ve never found anywhere else on Earth.

They’re staring right back at you, widened in shock and something akin to horror.

“Hey,” you breathe, and embrace him. His arms swing up around you automatically, Fate’s helmet clanging to the floor. You pull him tight against your chest, burying your head into his neck. He's solid and real in your arms. You inhale the scent of sea salt and tea, and wonder how the hell you’ve lived six long years without this.

He clings tightly to you, threatening to break your ribs. His arms are even stronger than they used to be, and he’s lost some of that youthful litheness in exchange for muscle. He buries his face in your hair, his fingers digging into your back and twisting in your shirt. You can feel him shaking, mouthing kisses into your scalp with hesitant, trembling lips.

Eventually you pull back just enough to look at him, holding his eyes with your own. He looks confused, and pained, and happy and scared. In the lump of your chest you feel the same emotions pulsing, but for now relief is winning out over all of them.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” you explain, staring into that impossible green. “Artemis and Wally will explain what's happening with Lian and the apartment, Dick and M’gann and Conner will catch you up on the rest. I know you didn’t really agree with this but I need you to go with it, okay? For all of us. God, I’ve _missed_ you,” you finish, breathless, and take his mouth in a deep kiss before he can protest.

When you separate, giving into the need to come up for air, he lays one palm gently across your mouth, halting you.

“Roy,” he says softly, his voice husky with six long years of disuse. “My friend, why are you doing this?" he asks, hand moving to cup your cheek. "You have a _daughter_. I cannot… I cannot allow you to do this for me,” he finishes, shaking his head. His eyes are shining and your chest _aches_.

After all this time he _still_ hasn't learned how to be selfish.

“I’m not letting Fate take your whole life away,” you say firmly, taking his hand between one of your own. You rub your thumbs over the familiar ridges of his knuckles. It's amazing how much of this, of _him_ , still feels familiar, after all these years. “Zatanna is looking for a permanent host for him, alright? But we don’t know how long it’ll take, we’ve already been looking for six years and we haven’t found anything. I’ve missed you, the Team’s missed you, and _Kaldur_ —“ you draw him to you, releasing his hand to grab him firmly by the shoulders. You hold his eyes with own and you squeeze his shoulders tight, a gesture from your childhood together. “—you deserve to have a life, too.”

His gaze drops from yours, defeated. “But why you?” he asks, strained. His hands have curled into fists at his sides, squeezing tight as if they could strangle the very air. “Out of everyone, Roy, why does it have to be _you_?"

“Because it has to be someone,” you manage past the lump in your throat. You move your hands to hold him gently by the head, tilting his face to make him meet your eyes. He does, and the two of you stand there for a quiet moment, just looking at each other.

You have no idea how you've lived without this man for the last six years.

But you know how you'll manage for the next six, if it means he gets his freedom.

"It has to be someone," you repeat gently, and you press your forehead gently to his. "And it's going to be me, because I want to."

Kaldur takes a shallow breath. It comes out soft, scatters across your skin. " _Why?_ "

The answer spills out warm and soft between you, instant and easier than anything. "Don't I love you, beautiful?"

A hitched breath, not quite a sob, and he grabs your face in his hands and crushes your mouths together. His lips press hard against yours, mouth working furiously against your own. He kisses you with the desperation of a dying man.

“I have missed you terribly,” he admits breathlessly when he releases you.

“I know,” you pant, the words pressed into his lips gently. You don't move back from him, not yet, though you feel the press of time. Carefully, you take both his hands to hold in your own, turning his palms to press against yours.

He presses back, leaning into you. Another hitched breath, another soft release of air from his lips to your own. “I do not want you to do this.”

You weave your fingers together, intertwining them tightly. “I know.”

He squeezes your hands in his, a reassurance. “I will watch over your daughter.”

That same hot, orange bitterness from before threatens to strangle you. But this time it's tempered--you're going to lose her for six years. But he'll be there. They'll go to the beach and he'll teach her to swim. By the time you're back she'll know the difference between a fish and a dolphin, how to navigate the sea by the stars.

Maybe she'll even remember you, if only from his and Artemis's and the rest's stories.

You manage to swallow that hot bile down, replace it with that thought, soft and blue. “I know.”

His voice goes low. “I do not wish to say good-bye.”

You bring his hands to your lips, kissing each finger tenderly before releasing them. You bend to pick up the helmet, hands gentle on the cold, unforgiving metal. Your five minutes are almost up, and if you keep Nabu waiting he might never let you trade again. You bring it to rest in front of you, unable to even hate it as the two of you stare at it. You're feeling too much as it is--there's nothing left in you for hate.

"I know."

Kaldur rests his hands on the helmet next to yours, white and deep brown on background of gold. Both of your faces stare back at you from its mirror-like surface, distorted and ugly.

You lean in, kissing him chastely. Blond lashes flutter closed over green eyes, and he tenses as you pull back.

“I love you,” he chokes out, voice tight and grip slackening on the helmet. His face is screwed up in pain, and you want nothing more than to throw the weight in your hands into space.

Instead you lift it up above your head with steady arms. His eyes snap open and he looks at you, once last time, before you lower the helm over your head.

“I know,” you say softly, as green disappears behind a barrier of gold.


End file.
